


under the same sun

by rarepairenabler



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Canon Compliant, M/M, Multi, Pining, Polyamory, Road Trips, Sharing a Bed, Skinny Dipping, Trans Male Character, Two Years Later, not obvious in the first half but definitely in the second, rating for chapter 1 is T
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-13 00:30:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9097579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rarepairenabler/pseuds/rarepairenabler
Summary: "So what have you two been up to? Wakatoshi, are ya still leaving everyone behind in the dust?"
  "We run on paved streets, not on dirt," Ushijima informs him as Shirabu pulls out of Tendou's driveway.
  Tendou snickers. "And you, Shirabu? I see you've started taking hair styling tips from Semi. Say, did you get shorter since I last saw you?"
  Shirabu gives Tendou a murderous look as Ushijima interjects, "That's not possible.”
OR Ushitenshira roadtrip AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NatRoze](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatRoze/gifts).



> Happy birthday nat! you know how sometimes people who cook will say something cheesy like "It's made with love"? well in that same sense, every line of this fic was _written_ with love. I could definitely write an actual essay about how important you are to me and how much better my life is because you're in it but instead i'm just gonna,,let the fic do the talking
> 
> in the end notes I've linked the two drawings that have been done for this fic ^^

“You did well today,” Ushijima praises as he pulls his jersey over his shoulders.

Eyes fixed on the new calluses budding on his fingertips, Shirabu flushes and says, “Thanks. I’m still getting a hand of playing with the new team, though.”

“I see.” Ushijima nods. “Usami does a running jump at a slower tempo. Shinoda requires a slightly lower jump.”

“And Kaito’s spikes are strong but inconsistent,” Shirabu adds. He bites his lip, grinning down at his hands when Ushijima hums in agreement. This, at least, feels familiar. “I think we have a real shot at nationals this year.”

Ushijima tugs a clean shirt from his gym bag. “Our new team is strong,” he acknowledges.

“The other teams will be, too,” Shirabu points out as he unwinds the bandages from his fingers.

“Ours is stronger,” Ushijima argues, oblivious of the reverent look Shirabu gives him. It’s that unshakable confidence of his that’d drawn Shirabu to him in the first place.

With you, I feel invincible, Shirabu thinks. Even now. I won’t fail you this time.

Ushijima glances down at him. “You’ll be a starter next year,” he says, like it’s obvious.

Shirabu nearly drops his water bottle. He makes an ungratified noise, squeezing the plastic tight enough that it spits water at Shirabu’s face. Ushijima mercifully doesn’t comment on it.

“Shirabu…you remember the promise we made, in high school?” Ushijima asks, his expression turning stern.

“Of course.” As if I could ever forget, he thinks, his throat suddenly dry as he dabs his hair with a towel.

“Does it still…apply?” His brows furrow. “You’ll still toss to me, no matter what?”

Shirabu glances up in surprise. “I…” His heart sputters as he tries to will his tongue to string together a coherent sentence. He exhales quietly, a rueful smile twisting his lips when he finally answers, “As long as you’re still useful.”

Ushijima smiles back.

“Oh, Shirabu?”

Shirabu perks up, his face hopeful. “Yes?”

“Are you driving back to Miyagi tomorrow for winter break?”

“Eh? Yeah, I think.” Okay, not where he thought this line of questioning was going to go, but Ushijima Wakatoshi is a man of mystery.

“We could go together,” Ushijima casually suggests.

“Oh. We—yeah, okay! Sure.” Shirabu nods so hard he’s half afraid his head’s going to fall off. “That’d be great.”

Ushijima arches a brow at him. “Tomorrow then?”

“Tomorrow,” Shirabu confirms with a flustered wave, ignoring the fluttery feeling in his stomach. "I'll drive!"

~*~

It’s not until later that night when Shirabu’s packing his things for the trip back home that it actually occurs to him that he’s just made the colossal mistake of agreeing to a road trip with _Ushijima Wakatoshi._

Ushijima, as in his ex-team captain and teammate of four years.

Ushijima, as in the person Shirabu’s been pining over ever since _junior high._

And tomorrow they’ll be spending five hours or so alone, trapped together in the cramped space of Shirabu’s car. The chance that Shirabu survives this trip is practically slim to none. 

“Shit, what did I just get myself into?” he groans.

Unsurprisingly, the white walls of his dorm room offer no insight.

With a sigh of defeat, Shirabu returns his attention to the pile of clean clothes now squished beneath him. The task of packing only mildly distracts him from the knot in his stomach that twists tighter and tighter every time his thoughts drift to Ushijima.

The phone rings, and Shirabu answers it without hesitation. “What?” he snaps.

“So testy!” he hears Tendou snicker. “What if it’d been your parents calling? Or _Wa-ka-toshi?_ ”

Shirabu bites his lip. “ _Wakatoshi_ would be more considerate than to call this late.”

“Oi, I’m plenty considerate! I was actually calling to make sure you’re all ready for the big day tomorrow~”

“Almost—wait, how do you know about that?”

“I have my sources,” Tendou croons.

“Wakatoshi told you.”

“Bingo! I came over yesterday to do laundry and he mentioned the two of you are trekking back to Miyagi together so _of course_ I had to check and see how my precious underclassmen’s coping, what with your crush and all—”

“I’m fine,” Shirabu lies through gritted teeth.

Tendou snorts. “Aw, c’mon, you know I can spot a bluff from a mile away.” At Shirabu’s pointed silence, Tendou soothes, “You’re overthinking things. It’ll be fine! It’s not like the two of you never spend any time alone together.”

Tendou Satori, the unlikely voice of reason. _The other signs of the apocalypse are sure to follow,_ Shirabu thinks as he huffs and hauls his suitcase off his bed.

“This is different!” Shirabu protests.

“Think about it this way—this is the perfect opportunity for you to tell him how you feel!”

“And make it the longest, most awkward five hours of my life?” demands Shirabu.

“Eh? Why are you sure he’ll reject you?”

Shirabu narrows his eyes. “Why are you so sure he won’t? Did he say something?” He cringes at himself the second the words are out. _Fuck, it’s like middle school all over again._

“Oh, look at the time. It’s getting late!” Tendou says. “You should be going to sleep soon, shouldn’t you? You’ll be driving after all, won’t you?”

“Tendou—”

“See you tomorrow, Shirabu!”

“ _Tendou!_ ”

The line goes dead. Shirabu glowers down at his phone before tossing it aside and falling back onto his bed. It’s not until a long moment later, his brain fogged with sleep and exhaustion, that he starts to process that Tendou promised they’d be seeing each other soon.

“Oh, god, _no_.”

~*~

Initially, there'd been a plan: Shirabu would set his alarm clock ahead of time, giving him more than enough time to dress, shower and prepare breakfast, and then he'd meet Ushijima and the two of them would set early to beat the rush of morning traffic.

This well-thought out plan hadn't accounted for Shirabu sleeping through his alarm clock.

"Shit, sorry I'm late!" Shirabu yells as he wheels his suitcase down the ramp. The winter wind swirls around him, nipping at his flushed cheeks and nearly knocking the wool hat off Shirabu's head.

Ushijima's already waiting for him, leaning up against Shirabu's car, dressed in a thick jacket, a plaid scarf and tight-fitted jeans. “It’s no problem. We still have plenty of time," Ushijima points out and Shirabu smiles in relief.

Shirabu pops open the trunk, and Ushijima moves to lift Shirabu's suitcase into the Prius without being asked.

"You--you don't have to!" Shirabu stammers, a flush creeping along his collar when he watches Ushijima hoist both bags above his shoulders. As the heat creeps further up his neck, Shirabu finds himself in desperate need of a paper bag to wheeze into.

"I don't mind."

"Oh, well. Thank you." Shirabu smiles thinly.

 _Get it together, Kenjirou_ , he scolds himself as he unlocks the door, his eyes fixed on the flex of Ushijima's broad shoulders. _The road trip hasn't even started yet!_

Finally tearing his gaze away, Shirabu settles into the driver's seat. He turns on the music, setting the radio to something indie with soft acoustics. _Things are going to be fine! He tells himself. After all, what could **really** go wrong in Ushijima's company?_

"Shirabu?"

Shirabu looks up from where he'd been buckling his seat belt. "Mmm?"

Ushijima frowns slightly. "Tendou asked for a ride back to Miyagi. He missed his bus, and he can’t get a refund in time."

Shirabu's stomach sinks.

"He says he does not want to trouble you--" Ushijima continues, not noticing when Shirabu rolls his eyes, "but he would be spending the holidays alone if we cannot offer him a ride."

I'm going to murder him, Shirabu thinks. "Sure, why not. It's just one detour." He pastes on a smile. "Just give me a moment?"

"Of course."

Shirabu fishes his phone from his pocket and furiously types out, **what the fuck Tendou??**

 **[From Tendou]:** I'm guessing u heard the news!

With a glare, Shirabu replies, **its like u have a talent**

 **[From Tendou]:** dont be mad! u were the one nervous about being alone with Wakatoshi remember? ;))

Shirabu's brow twitches. He answers with a series of knife emojis and slides his phone back into his pocket. "Alright, ready," Shirabu says, his voice forcibly bright as he backs out of the parking lot. "Let's go!"

~*~

The ride with Ushijima is _peaceful._ They make casual conversation about their classes, their team and their plans for the holidays. Between lights, Shirabu sneaks looks at his passenger - Ushijima's face looks pensive, his brown eyes soft and glinting in the sunlight streaming in through the window. It's not long before Shirabu's realizing things might be fine, after all. 

That is, until Ushijima announces, "Tendou's apartment is on the next street."

"Lovely," Shirabu grumbles under his breath.

When he pulls into Tendou's driveway, Tendou's waiting with his suitcase in tow and his lips crooked into a smug grin.

"Took you long enough," Tendou says, simpering. "Shirabu, aren't you a little young to be driving like you're in your fifties?"

Shirabu seriously debates flooring in. Instead, he flips Tendou off and hops out of the car, the door slamming shut behind him. "Just get in."

"Oh? I see, _now_ you're in a rush." Tendou turns his attention to Ushijima. "Could you help me with my things? They're a little heavy for me."

Ushijima nods and hauls Tendou's bags over his strong shoulders. God, he could probably lift Shirabu without struggle. Shirabu tries not to dwell on that - and fails tremendously as his face starts to heat.

Shirabu clicks his tongue at the way Tendou's openly ogling their ex-captain. "Tendou, you can carry your own damn—"

Tendou hooks an arm around Shirabu's shoulder and hushes him. "It's called enjoying the simple things in life."

Shirabu narrows his eyes. He waits until Ushijima's disappeared behind the car to mutter, "I thought you wanted to _help._ Now you're sabotaging me?"

"Sabotaging you?" Tendou asks, his eyes wide.

Shirabu juts his chin out and folds his arms across his chest as he waits for Tendou to deny it.

Tendou's eyes gleam in amusement. "You're paranoid."

"And you're an _ass._ "

"So you were going to finally ask out our Wakatoshi, then?" Tendou teases.

‘Our.’ Shirabu seethes. “ _Maybe_ ,” he counters, his brow arching in challenge.

Tendou smirks and hooks his thumbs in the pockets of his red skinny jeans. Today, more than ever, he looks like a colorblind beanpole. "Oho? And what were you going to say?"

"I was going to tell him...." Shirabu curses himself when he wracks his brain for a lie and comes up empty handed. "Never mind that! Shut up!" he snaps, ignoring Tendou's cackling. "Why are you here?"

"Maybe I missed my best friend!" Tendou gives Shirabu an exaggerated point. "You get to see him all the time. Does the thought of sharing really bug you that much?"

Shirabu flushes and tugs his scarf tighter. A childish part of him wants to snap back, yes!  
"We don't spend that much time together!" Shirabu protests, hissing low enough that only Tendou hears. "And you literally saw him a day ago!"

"Well then." Tendou's smirk broadens. He leans in, close enough that Shirabu could count that freckles speckling the sharp lines of his cheekbones. "Maybe it's _you_ I missed."

"You..." Shirabu's breath hitches. For a moment, he lets himself sway forward, his eyes dipping down to the curve of Tendou's smirk and then back up again. Just as quickly, he remembers himself and pushes Tendou away. "Whatever."

Tendou stumbles back with a delighted laugh.

Shirabu gives Tendou a sharp look over his shoulder and storms back to the car. "We should go. Now."

Ushijima closes the trunk with a sharp click. "Everything's ready back here."

"Cooooming," Tendou sing-songs. "I call shotgun!"

Shirabu blanches. "You can't call shotgun, that's Ushiwaka's seat and besides, my backseat's too small."

"Then Wakatoshi will drive!" Tendou proposes. "Sorry Shirabu, that's just how shotgun works. Rules are rules!" He shrugs as if to say, _what can ya do?_

"This is true," Ushijima pipes in. "The seat is rightfully Tendou's."

Tendou beams. "See!"

Shirabu makes an incredulous noise as he climbs into the driver's seat. "It's my car!"

Brows furrowing, Ushijima glances between them. "Shirabu makes a good point."

" _Et tu_ , Wakatoshi?" Tendou demands.

Shirabu shoots Tendou a dirty look. "Get in the damn car already.”

"Fine," Tendou says, visibly sulking as he tugs open the back door. "How am I supposed to fit my long limbs in this tiny space?"

Shirabu smirks. "Well, gee. I don’t know? _May_ -be you should have thought about that before you missed your bus."

"Bitterness does not become you," Tendou says, gasping.

Shirabu reclines his chair in retaliation.

Thankfully, Tendou’s distracted when Ushijima moves to claim the seat in front of him. Grinning, Tendou presses his chin to the slope of Ushijima's chair. "So what have you two been up to? Wakatoshi, are ya still leaving everyone behind in the dust?"

"We run on paved streets, not on dirt," Ushijima informs him as Shirabu pulls out of Tendou's driveway.

Tendou snickers. "And you, Shirabu? I see you've started taking hair styling tips from Semi. Say, did you get _shorter_ since I last saw you."

Shirabu gives Tendou a murderous look as Ushijima interjects, "That's not possible.”

"You sure?" Through his rear view mirror, Shirabu sees Tendou squint at him. "Because I swear, he looks--"

Shirabu keeps his eyes on the winding road in front of him as he reaches a hand back to cuff Tendou over the side of the head.

"Ow! See, _this_ is why I could be driving instead," argues Tendou. "Hey, I'm hungry, either of you bring snacks?"

"I did," Shirabu says, "But they're in my bags, which are in the back."

"I brought protein bars," answers Ushijima.

Tendou grimaces. "Yuck. I'll pass."

"Suits yourself," Shirabu hums, his thumbs tapping against the wheel.

"I'll just sit here then," Tendou says, sniffing as he glances out the window. "And ignore the aching pain in my stomach."

"Seems only fair, since so far you’ve been nothing but a giant pain in my—”

“Hey!”

“You should have eaten before we left," Shirabu concludes snidely.

"What are you, a middle school teacher?" Tendou shoots back. "I wasn't hungry before we left."

Ushijima's lips thin into a frown. "Shirabu..."

"Alright, fine, whatever," Shirabu huffs. "We'll make a quick stop for food, _happy?_ " He hears Tendou whoop with delight in the backseat.

"One more thing, can we put some road trip jams on? This music's putting me to sleep," Tendou complains.

Shirabu smacks Tendou's hand away when he sees him reach for dial to change the radio station. "If you so much as _touch_ my stereo, so help me I will kick you out of his car."

"You _wouldn’t_ ," Tendou counters, his voice uncertain.

Shirabu smiles. "Try me.”

They find a small diner off the side of the road, which gives Shirabu the perfect opportunity the get out of the car and stretch his legs - which had been prickling with numbness.

“You’re still tired from last night,” Tendou notes as he follows Shirabu and Ushijima across the parking lot.

“Maybe a _little_ ,” Shirabu confesses with a yawn. His lashes flutter as he lifts a hand to rub at his eyes. “What’re you looking at?” he slurs when he feels Tendou’s gaze linger.

Tendou’s lips curve in a smirk. He rocks forward on his heels and tells Shirabu, “You’re cute when you’re sleepy. Like a kitten.”

“Excuse you?” Shirabu stares. _The hell did he just say?_

“Don’t you think so, Wakatoshi?” Tendou asks as he sprints a little to keep up with Ushijima’s long strides.

“Mmm?”

“Shirabu,” Tendou clarifies as he cuts in front of Ushijima. “He’s kinda cute, don’tcha think?”

Shirabu snaps out of his daze, his ears burning as he nearly trips on the ice. “What the hell Tendou—don’t ask him that!”

Tendou leans back against the glass door and presses, “Waka-to- _shi?_ ”

Ushijima gives Tendou a confused look. “He’s handsome, yes,” Ushijima agrees, like it’s obvious.

Shirabu makes a strangled noise and trips a second time - only this time he loses his footing and grasps for whatever’s closest - which happens to be Ushijima’s jacket. Ushijima catches him immediately, his hands steady at Shirabu’s waist.

“Are you alright?”

“Fine!” Shirabu lies, flush deepening when he hears Tendou’s maniacal laughter behind them. Ushijima nods and holds the door open for Shirabu and Tendou.

They find a cozy booth in the corner of the diner, right next to the window. Shirabu slides into the booth and Tendou squeezes in next to Ushijima on the opposite side.

“Y’know, I missed this,” Tendou says, sighing as he leans his weight against Ushijima’s shoulder. “The three of us haven’t hung out together since we graduated.”

Ushijima tilts his head so that he’s leaning back against Tendou. “I’ve missed this, too. Even though your time’s passed, I like to think that you’re there with us in spirit.”

Shirabu muffles his laughter against his hand when Tendou makes an affronted noise.

“Oi! _Quit making it sound like I died!_ ”

Their waitress shows up a moment later and takes their order. Water’s set out in the table, their appetizers—calamari and fish cakes—set between them as Tendou fills them in on the details of his university life. “You’ll never believe who I’m rooming with this year,” Tendou says as he stuffs his mouth with food.

“Who’s that?” Ushijima asks politely.

“Karasuno’s pesky setter!”

Shirabu’s fists clench at the mention of Karasuno. “Kageyama?”

Tendou shakes his head. “Nah, the really pretty one,” he says, sighing. “He’s an even _bigger_ thorn in my side than he was back then. And even worse, Seijoh’s setter, Oikawa, moved in with us a few weeks ago.”

Ushijima looks up at this. “Oikawa? How is he?”

“Self-obsessed as always,” Tendou tells them. “I’m outnumbered by _setters!_ I swear, the two are constantly double teaming me,” he whines.

“Ew,” Shirabu says, grimacing.

Tendou snickers and waggles his brows at Shirabu. “Not what I meant! Although, now that ya mention it—” he’s interrupted when their waitress shows up with their food.

Shirabu’s quiet during lunch as he observes Tendou and Ushijima. Tendou throws an arm around Ushijima, his smile wide and broad as he complains how even now, Yamagata’s still spamming their groupchat with outdated memes. The corners of Ushijima’s eyes wrinkle in a smile as he listens to Tendou talk. 

The two of them have always shared a casual sort of intimacy that Shirabu’s envied. It’s only now, after years of playing on the team, that Shirabu’s started calling Ushijima ‘Wakatoshi’ but his cheeks still color whenever he does, and yet Tendou’s been on first name basis for as long as Shirabu’s known them.

“We should text the others,” Ushijima suggests, “to let them know we’ll be late.” He doesn’t comment on the way Tendou’s snuggled up against his side or the way Tendou’s been unabashedly scrapping his vegetables onto Ushijima’s plate.

“Probably,” Tendou concurs as he digs his phone out of his pocket. “Except Yamagata, he lost his phone again.”

“Again?” Shirabu and Ushijima ask.

“Again,” Tendou confirms. “Someone should seriously tape his phone to his hand, or something.”

Ushijima hums in agreement.

“Alright well, I think I’m ready to go,” Tendou says as he pushes his plate aside. “Wakatoshi,” he gasps. “You didn’t eat all your vegetables!”

Shirabu sighs at Tendou’s antics and shrugs back into his jacket. “I’m ready, too.”

“But my vegetables—”

“You can leave them,” Shirabu informs his ace, his lips upturned in an amused smile. “Tendou was being…Tendou.”

“Oi! _What’s that supposed to mean?”_

~*~

“Keys,” Tendou says, holding out his palm when Shirabu yawns again. “Give’em.”

“Nice try. Impeccable effort.” Shirabu gives him an unimpressed look. “But you’re _not_ driving my car, Tendou.”  
“Eh? Why not? I’m a responsible driver!”

Shirabu pointedly ignores him. “Wakatoshi…would you mind taking over for a little? I’m just going to nap.”

“I’ll drive safely,” Ushijima reassures him as he takes the keys.

“I don’t doubt it,” Shirabu replies. He turns and sticks his tongue out at Tendou who’s still openly sulking. Yawning again, he climbs into the backseat. “Hey, at least you’ve got the shotgun seat now.”

If Tendou answers, Shirabu doesn’t hear it. Instead, he reaches for the hoodie Tendou left in the backseat and kneads it into a shape at least remotely resembling a pillow before tucking it beneath his chin. He grumbles sleepily and nuzzles against the soft fabric that smells like the detergent Tendou uses and Shirabu’s pine-scented car freshener and then Shirabu’s finally drifting off. 

He wakes an hour later to the bright flash of Tendou’s camera.

“Shirabu’s not going to be pleased,” Ushijima warns when Tendou snaps another picture.

“S’worth it,” Tendou says, grinning. “I mean, look at him! He’s so _peaceful_ and _nonviolent_ like this—so much less homicidal than usual. Have I mentioned the kitten thing?”

“You have.”

Shirabu sniffs, his nose twitching as he frowns and rolls onto his side.

“ _Too_ cute,” Tendou coos. “I’m posting this on the group chat.”

Ushijima laughs quietly. “There’s an expression of yours—‘it’s your funeral’?”

“Tch. Let me have this.”

Shirabu buries his face in Tendou’s hoodie and mumbles, “Yr’th’worst,”

“Oi, that’s no way to talk to your favorite senpai,” Tendou scolds as Shirabu sits up and flexes his arms over his shoulders.

“Third favorite,” Shirabu corrects, his voice still muffled from sleep. “Wakatoshi’s first.”

Out of the corner of Shirabu vision, he sees Ushijima’s lips crook in a small smile.

“Third?” Tendou demands. “Who’s second then? Yamagata? It’s that cool undercut of his, isn’t it? I can’t compete with that—”

Shirabu shakes his head. “Reon.”

“Oh,” Tendou says. And then a moment later, “Yeah, okay, that’s fair.”

For a while, they drive in silence. Snow starts to fall in light wisps around them, snowflakes dotting the windshield, the harsh glare of sunlight already starting to fade as they leave Tokyo and its soaring towers and cramped highways behind them in the distance.

Tendou taps his fingers against the dashboard, his knee jumping anxiously. "So--"

 _Wow, that must have been some sort of record for him_ , Shirabu thinks as he looks out the window and grins.

"Can we _please_ turn the radio back on?" Tendou pleads.

"Fine, go for it."

Ushijima nods in agreement. "It's too quiet. Some music would be nice."

"Aw, c'mon, Shira---wait, did you just say yes?" Tendou twists around in his seat, his head craned around and his eyes blinking slowly in a way that's unsettlingly owlish.

Shirabu rolls his eyes and gestures to the stereo as if to say, ' _just get on with it, would you?_ "

With a delirious grin, Tendou reaches for the dial, his eyes flickering back to Shirabu as though he's still expecting Shirabu to scold him. He sifts through the stations until he finds one that's playing catchy pop songs.

“Really? _ABBA?_ ” Shirabu asks, arching an eyebrow at Tendou.

Tendou pointedly whistles along, his fingers drumming against his lap, and Shirabu finds himself bobbing his head along with the music, too. By the time the song reaches its chorus, Tendou's dancing in his seat and belting out the lyrics with an unabashed enthusiasm that Shirabu personally reserves for showers when none of his roommates are home.

_“Yes, I've been brokenhearted, bluuuuuuue since the day we parted. Why, why did I ever let you goooo?”_

_He's actually a pretty good singer_ , Shirabu thinks resentfully, cheeks tinting red as he watches Tendou shimmy and playfully bump his shoulder against Ushijima's.

With a shy smile, Shirabu joins Tendou. Shirabu's never sang in front of them before, but back in middle school he used to be in choir - he's confident about his ability to carry a tune. His heart flutters and his stomach does a funny dance when he sees Tendou wink at him in the mirror.

"Waka-to- _shi_ ," Tendou sings as he leans into Ushijima's space. "I know you know the words~"

"I'm familiar with the song, yes." Just when Shirabu thinks Tendou's going to have to ask again, Ushijima gives Tendou an indulgent look - and then he's singing along too, his voice deeper and rumblier than Tendou's, yet _equally unfair_. Shirabu turns his head away so that neither of them can see the flush steadily creeping along his collar and along the expanse of his neck. They sing through the next song together, and then one after that, the three of them sharing a fond look in the reflection of the mirrors.

And then, suddenly, Tendou says, "Hey, Shirabu..."

"Mmm?"

"Heh, I'm guessing your car's not _supposed_ to be smoking like that?"

“Eh?” Shirabu looks over his shoulder - Tendou wasn’t kidding. There are thick clouds of white smoke billowing out from the engine, swirling all around them. Shirabu lets out a string of inventive curses as Ushijima frowns and pulls off to the side of the road. 

“Holy shit,” he says. He pushes the door open, his boots sinking into the snow when he lands on his feet.

“Shirabu, I’m sorry—” Ushijima starts but Shirabu cuts him.

“I know it’s not your fault,” Shirabu reassures him. “My car’s had problems before, but I didn’t think something like _this_ would happen.”

Tendou’s door clicks shut behind him. “Hey, cheer up, kiddo,” he says, slinging an arm around Shirabu. “We’ll call a mechanic, and then we’ll be outta here in no time. This is just a brief hiccup in our trip, yeah?”

Shirabu gives him a doubtful look.

“We should call our families,” Ushijima suggests. “I don’t think we will be making it back tonight.”

“Well, on the bright side—” Tendou squints at his phone. “According to Google, there’s a hotel less than fifteen minutes from here.”

They set out for the hotel, a tapestry of obsidian skies and shimmering stars hanging above them, their packs fastened securely to their backs as the three of them trek through the dense mounds of snow. It’s weird to think that only an hour ago Shirabu had been admiring the snowflakes that’d trickled down from the sky; his current stance is that winter can go fuck itself.

“You’re cold,” Ushijima says, noting Shirabu’s rosy cheeks and clattering teeth. “Here.” Without another word, he eases Shirabu’s bag off his shoulder and tugs him underneath the shelter of Ushijima’s cozy, oversized jacket.

Shirabu, now flushing for reasons completely unrelated to the miserable winter weather, decides that maybe this season’s not so bad after all. Ushijima’s basically a human space heater -it’s not long before Shirabu’s finally stopped shivering. 

“That’s better, thank you.”

“Wakatoshiii,” Tendou whines. “M’cold too!”

“Your complexion doesn’t seem any redder than usual,” Ushijima points out, frowning. “Try jogging; they say movement helps with circulation.”

Shirabu snickers and nudges his face against the crook of Ushijima’s neck.

“I swear—,” Tendou says, pouting as he splays his fingers— “I forgot my gloves at home and now I can hardly feel my hands—” He makes a startled noise as Ushijima reaches out and squeezes Tendou’s hand.

“It does feel cold,” Ushijima confirms.

Shirabu feels a twinge of sympathy at Tendou’s dumbfounded state as Ushijima strokes his thumb along Tendou’s splotchy red knuckles. Ushijima casually curls his fingers against Tendou’s, and then they set off again, the three of them huddled close with Tendou’s hand intertwined with Ushijima’s and Ushijima’s jacket draped around Shirabu’s shoulder.

“We’re here,” Tendou pants when they finally reach the hotel.

“A Christmas miracle,” Shirabu mumbles. He yawns and sags against Ushijima.

The lady working at the desk smiles politely. “May I help you?”

“Hello, we would like a room, please,” Ushijima tells her. He untangles himself and Shirabu, oblivious to the regretful look they both give him.

“Sure! We have a room available on the third floor that has two large beds. Will that be alright?”

“Yes, thank you.”

 _One of us is going to have to share a bed_ , Shirabu thinks, as he smiles again and hands Ushijima the room key. He’s still thinking it during the elevator ride and as they walk down the hall with their luggage, and as Tendou whistles and swipes their room key in the slot.

“We’re here~”

Unaware of Shirabu’s inner crisis, Ushijima drops his things onto one of the beds and begins unpacking his toothbrush and shampoo.

“Pstt, Shirabu,” Tendou whispers.

“No way.” Shirabu folds his arms. “I’m not playing rock, paper, scissors against you, Tendou. You win every single time.”

“I wasn’t gonna suggest that!” He glances over to where Ushijima’s fluffing his pillow. “You still pissed I decided to tag along on your little expedition?”

“What do _you_ think?”

“Then let me make it up to you,” he murmurs, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he grins. “Bed’s all yours, Shirabu~ You can thank me later!”

“Tendou, wait, no, _don’t_ —“ Shirabu shoots Ushijima a panicked look.

True to his word, Tendou flops down on the other bed, then spreads out so that he’s occupying the whole bed with his freakishly long limbs. “ _Man,_ I’m so tired; I think I could just pass out from exhaustion. Wakatoshi-kun, you don’t mind me taking this bed for myself, do you?”

Ushijima gives him a confused look. “No, that’s fine.”

Tendou’s expression turns triumphant as he turns to Shirabu and waggles his brows suggestively.

 _Okay, that’s fine. I can do this._ Shirabu takes one tentative step towards the bed (the bed he’ll be sharing with Ushijima Wakatoshi), and then another. _Almost there._ His gaze lifts to where Ushijima’s sitting at the foot of their bed, and, oh, that was a mistake. Shirabu’s heart slams against the cage of his ribs, his throat painfully dry as he watches Ushijima strip down to his grey boxers.

“Are you…alright?” he hears Ushijima ask.

“Yeah.” Shirabu nods robotically. “Just— _thirsty._ ”

Tendou cackles so hard he nearly falls off the bed.


	2. Chapter 2

Shirabu likes to pride himself on his ability to sleep under any sort of circumstances. He’s slept through his teammates’ snores during training camp, he’s slept through crowded university lectures, and, on more than one occasion, he’s slept through actual _earthquakes_. It’s a gift, really.

But none of that compares to the impossible task of falling asleep when right next to him is _Ushijima_. Every few seconds, his eyes flit to Ushijima. The other man’s radiating heat, his broad shoulders rising and falling softly as he ticks off the comforters and turns onto his side. Shirabu watches all this, fascinated, when Ushijima shifts closer and unconsciously rubs his jaw along the curve of Shirabu’s bare shoulder. Shirabu squeaks and rolls over onto the opposite side of the bed, panting hard. It takes a long moment before his pulse finally relaxes.

With a quiet breath, he calms himself, and crawls back to the center of the bed. This time, he doesn’t leap away when Ushijima hooks an arm around his waist and tucks Shirabu against him.

 _This is it,_ Shirabu thinks, his face aching from how hard he’s flushing, _this is how I die._

“Yo, Shirabu. You up?”

 _Maybe if I just ignore him_ …Shirabu fakes a snore and rests his head against Ushijima’s shoulder.

“Tch, no way am I falling for that. I still remember training camp—your real snores could wake the dead.”

“Excuse you?” Shirabu sits up in his bed and glares. “I do not _snore_.” He sighs when he’s realizes Tendou’s won. “What do you want?”

“I can’t sleep,” Tendou complains, his lower lip curling in a pout.

“How’s that _my_ problem?”

Tendou cocks his head and leers. “Cause you can’t either, clearly. C’mon, get up. We’re going for a swim.”

“A _swim_?” Shirabu glances at his phone. “It’s 4am in the morning. The pool’s probably closed by now.”

Tendou shrugs. “It’s worth a try.”

Shirabu shakes his head at Tendou but gets out of bed anyway, carefully crawling out from beneath Ushijima’s loose grip. He takes a moment to admire Ushijima like this—he looks handsome, his bangs fanned out across the pillow, his lashes dark across the sharp angles of his cheekbones. And for a moment, Shirabu regrets his decision.

“Hey, let’s go. You can ogle him when we get back,” Tendou says, poking a finger at Shirabu’s side.

“Hypocrite,” Shirabu snaps when he sees Tendou reach for his phone. “No pictures,” he whispers, shoving Tendou out of the room. The two of them take the elevator down together, until they reach the first floor, where the pool is.

“ _Told you_ it wouldn’t be open at this hour—” Shirabu’s saying when Tendou grips the door handle. He’s just about to tell Tendou this whole idea was stupid, anyway, when Tendou shushes him and successfully wrenches the door open on his first try.

“Ohohoho. You were saying?”

“ _Shut up._ ” With a scowl, Shirabu follows Tendou into the pool room, even as he warns that they’re going to get caught. A green light shimmers across the rippling water as the two of them creep along the side of the pool. There are plastic beach chairs crowding the pool, some of them with abandoned, disheveled towels dangling off the side. 

“ _No_ sense of adventure,” Tendou tsks. He sits down at the edge of the pool, the water splashing around his feet as he balances a bottle of sake between his bare thighs.

Shirabu’s eyes bulge. “Where the hell were you even hiding that?”

“Under the towels I was carrying,” Tendou answers with a sly grin. He pats the space next to him and Shirabu indulges him, wincing when his toes touch the water.

Tendou holds out the bottle, his bony shoulders pressing up against Shirabu’s as he asks, “Want some?”

“Shit, why not,” Shirabu grunts, reaching for the sake. Tendou snickers and snatches it away again.

“Oho, not to fast!” he chides. “Let’s play a game: you answer a question, you take a sip.”

Well, at least it’s not ‘never have I ever’ or ‘truth or dare.’ Shirabu rolls his eyes but agrees. “Fine, ask away.”

“First question! Okay, _so_ do you cut your own bangs? ‘Cause I’ve always wondered—”

“Seriously?” Shirabu demands.

“I’m curious!”

“Yes,” Shirabu grumbles, snatching the sake back from Tendou. He gives Tendou a sidelong look, and then takes a swig. He winces as it burns its way down his throat. “ _I cut my own bangs._ You got a problem with that?”

“No, no, it looks good!” Tendou bites his lip. “Very…edgy.”

Shirabu narrows his eyes. “Alright, my question. Was there ever even a bus ticket?”

“Eh?”

Shirabu takes another sip and explains, “When Wakatoshi told me you’d be tagging along, he told me you missed your bus and couldn’t refund your ticket. Was any of that true?”

“Oh.” Without looking, Tendou takes the sake from him, his eyes staring out into the darkness. “Yeah, _nope._ ” He takes a sip. It takes warm and saccharinely sweet on his tongue. 

Shirabu's nose scrunches in anger. "Then _why_ are you here?"

Tendou laughs, the sound bitter and pained. He takes another drawn out gulp and then he's leaning back, his unsettling gaze fixed on Shirabu. "S'it really that hard to believe I just missed everyone?"

Shirabu doesn't answer.

"Everyone's moved on, gone to university or gotten jobs, started playing with different teams. Even Wakatoshi has a new team. I'm psyched for him, y'know, but I'm also--" he swallows thickly. "Fuck, I know it sounds stupid--"

"It does," Shirabu confirms, the smell of the chlorine burning his nose. 

Tendou gives him a knowing look, the kind that always makes Shirabu feel exposed, vulnerable. Shirabu holds his gaze despite the urge to turn away. There’s no sound beyond the quiet drip of water against tile and the soft pant of their breaths as they float there in place. 

"You followed Wakatoshi to Tokyo, and I get that. You weren't ready to let go," Tendou says. "Maybe I'm not ready either." 

Shirabu makes an affronted noise. "I didn't _follow_ \---"

"Next question," Tendou interrupts, his voice cheery again. "You and Semi. Were you or were you not a thing?"

"We weren't a _thing_ ," Shirabu snaps, suddenly grateful for the darkness. It's possible Tendou might not see the color that's creeping up Shirabu's neck. Shit, Shiratorizawa third years are a goddamn hazard. "We made out. Once. In the storage room during third year."

"I knew it!" Tendou says, loud enough that his voice echoes off the walls. "Man _this_ , I gotta hear."

Shirabu sighs and tugs his knees against his chest. "There's nothing to tell! We were fighting about something stupid, like usual, and then suddenly we were pressed up against the wall and kissing. Which is about when Goshiki walked in." He steals the bottle back from Tendou and takes a long, drawn out gulp.

Tendou lets out a delighted laugh. "Man," he says, sniffing, "I can't believe your first kiss was outta spite. No, wait, I can _definitely_ believe it."

Shirabu frowns, his lips warm against the bottle where Tendou's mouth had been only a moment before. Already, he could feel the alcohol taking effect; heat courses through him, prickling his skin and fogging his thoughts. He sways slightly and presses his weight against Tendou's shoulder. "Didn't say it was my first kiss."

"Oh? Tendou piques up at this. "Then who?"

"Nuh-uh, not gonna tell you. Y'r gonna laugh."

A teasing grin spreads across Tendou's lips. "Probably."

"Ugh, whatever. It was--" Shirabu chokes on his spit when Tendou suddenly strips off his shirt and the grey binder he'd been wearing underneath. "What're you doing?"

He regrets asking when, a second later, Tendou tugs his boxers down and then kicks them aside. "I said we were gonna swim, didn't I?"

Shirabu looks up and is greeted with the sight of Tendou's long chicken legs and bare ass - and holy shit, Tendou's naked. Still clutching the bottle tight, Shirabu tilts his head back and downs the rest of the sake in one panicked chug.

Tendou chuckles and dives into the pool, the sounds of the splash bouncing off the wall as the water spatters at Shirabu's feet and sloshes along the edge of the tiles. Seconds later, Tendou emerges again, his red hair drooping down across his eyes and a wicked grin tilting his lips.

"So," he pants. "You comin'?"

"Nuh uh." Shirabu eyes Tendou's pile of discarded clothes. If he wanted to, he could take them and run. It'd be petty, definitely, but he can't help but smirk at the thought of Tendou taking off after him, still naked and drenched from the pool.

"Fine, suit yourself," Tendou says, his voice impassive as he shrugs. "I figured you'd be too chicken anyway."

Shirabu scowls at him through the darkness. "S'cuse you?"

"Thought maybe you'd changed since high school," Tendou continues. "that maybe you'd be more daring since then, more willing to take risks but, hey. Some people don't change! Which is cool, I mean, there's nothin' wrong with bein' the exact same—"

"God, just. Shut it, already." Shirabu scratches at his arms self-consciously. "But no looking! If I catch you peeking, I'm gonna take a run for it, and I’ll be taking _your clothes_ with me."

Tendou raises his arms above him in a gesture of trust and then slowly sinks down into the water, bubbles circles around his head once he's fully submerged himself. _Like a fucking swamp monster_ , Shirabu thinks as he angrily sheds his clothes. He steels his nerves with a deep breath, backs up a step, and then jumps in after Tendou, the cool water surging around him as he squeezes his eyes shut. When Shirabu comes back up for air again, he finds Tendou standing nearby, his eyes glinting, the sharp lines of his collar illuminated in the refracted light that ripples across the surface of the pool.

For a long moment, there's no sound but the quiet drip of water and the pant of their heavy breaths as they circle each other warily.

" _Yahaba_ ," Shirabu says, finally, when he decides he can't take the silence anymore.

Tendou cocks an eyebrow at him. "Eh?"

"My first kiss," Shirabu clarifies. "Second year, I was hanging out with Ennoshita, Akaashi, Futakuchi, and Terushima and one of them--Futakuchi, I think--suggested spin the bottle."

Tendou reels back. "I can't believe this! My own kouhai, conspiring with the enemy!"

Shirabu rolls his eyes and flicks water at Tendou. "Give it a rest. What, like nothing ever happened between you and your ' _really pretty_ ' roommates?"

In the dark, he can hardly make out Tendou's expression but he sees the way the older boy tenses. "Hey--that's not--it's _different!_ ”

"Pft, sure. If you say so."

Tendou sighs in defeat. "So, I guess we both have a thing for pretty setters, huh?"

Shirabu’s heart sputters. He closes his eyes and focuses on the brush of water against his bare skin. He absolutely _does not_ wonder whether Tendou considers him to be one of the 'pretty' setters he's talking about. That'd require him asking whether Tendou thinks he's pretty, not to mention him admitting he cares what Tendou thinks - and there's no way in hell Shirabu would do either. Even when drunk, he's still got more pride than that.

"Middle blockers aren't so bad either,” Shirabu says innocently.

Tendou leans in, close enough that Shirabu can feel the warmth of Tendou’s breath against his skin. _”Oh yeah?"_

"Definitely." Shirabu smirks. "Kawanishi had that whole calm and mysterious thing going for him."

"You little--"

Shirabu snickers and adds, "And then there's liberos."

Tendou hums at that. "Tall ones."

"With _undercuts_ ," Shirabu agrees. There's a pause. "And goddamn _wing spikers_ ," Shirabu and Tendou sigh dreamily in unison.

Shirabu groans and slumps back against the wall of the pool. "Wakatoshi's just so cool and _handsome_ and _strong_ and," Shirabu hiccups, "m' pretty sure he could bench press me. S'not fair." He shakes Tendou's arm urgently.

"God, I know. Fuck." Tendou strokes a hand through his own hair. They both sigh again. 

"Hey, can I ask you somethin' else?"

"Guess it's only fair."

Shirabu sifts his fingers across the water. "What's with you n' Wakatoshi? There's history, right?"

Tendou becomes uncharacteristically quiet. "Uh."

"Nuh uh, c'mon, I've answered _y'r_ questions." Shirabu jabs his finger at Tendou and tries to glare but it's more of an aggressive squint at this point.

"We kissed," Tendou answers finally.

" _Kissed_?"

"After graduation. I convinced Wakatoshi to sneak up onto the school's roof with me. We were sayin' our goodbyes and then it just sorta _happened._ I don't think I even knew how I felt until then, but..."

"But?"

" _But_ it was too late. We graduated," Tendou finishes. "And Wakatoshi moved to Tokyo, and we never talked about it. I missed my shot."

Shirabu makes a frustrated noise. "That's _bullshit_. You obviously still have feelings! Why're you encouraging me to be with him? Why'd you let _me_ have the bed?" Shirabu asks, frowning.

Tendou shivers. "I don't know, guess I figured if he was gonna move on I'd rather it be, y'know, with someone..."

"Someone _familiar?_ "

"Oi, I was gonna say someone who's _good_ for him," Tendou says. "I've seen you guys together n' it works. You _get_ him. What if he dated someone who didn't know him like we do? Someone who thinks it's weird that he says what he's thinking aloud or that sometimes he needs the punchline to be explained to him or that he stops and pets every single dog during his morning jog. What if they don't find it super endearing? I can't just let my best friend just date _some dude._ "

Shirabu blinks. He can feel the alcohol burning its way through his system as he licks his lips. "You're still in love with him."

"Yeah, well."

"You quit volleyball, but that doesn't mean you have to quit Wakatoshi, too. He talks about you a _lot_ , y'know. Every story starts with 'and then Tendou said' or 'and then Tendou talked me into doing this.' He always _smiles_ when he mentions you, n' I'd be more upset 'bout that except he has a really great smile. _He didn't forget about you, you dipshit._ "

Tendou's hands close over Shirabu's, his lips curving in a rueful smile. " _Shirabu._ ”

"No, shut up, zip it, _just listen._ " Absently, Shirabu acknowledges he probably shouldn't be encouraging his competition - but his annoyance takes over as he tugs his hands around Tendou's neck and pulls him down so that their foreheads are touching. "You're still in love with him! S'obvious. You wouldn't be here if you were really ready to give up yet!"

Tendou frowns at him. "What're you saying, exactly? You _want_ me to ask Wakatoshi out?"

"Yes. I mean _no._ " Shirabu's face twists into a scowl. "Shit, I don't know, I just--I love him too and I don't know if he's under gonna see me as anything but his setter - but I'd follow anywhere if he asked, I think."

"Dude, that's mad gay," Tendou points out gleefully.

Shirabu shoves him under the water. " _Y'r mad gay._ "

Tendou whoops and grins as he pops back up again. "Fuck yeah, I am! Hey, what do ya say to getting out of here? I think my hands are startin' to prune."

Shirabu nods numbly and follows Tendou to the other side of the pool. He waits a few minutes, his eyes discreetly averted as Tendou towels himself down and gets dressed back into his pajamas.

He catches the towel Tendou tosses him in one hand and then finally climbs up out the water. 

As Tendou tucks the bottle under his own arm, Shirabu slurs, "I didn't choose my school cause'a feelings, though. I coulda gone somewhere else. I got offers from good schools. Strong teams. I can't play the kinda volleyball I wanna play without him. I'd never get the satisfaction of seein' Wakatoshi's spikes just— _destroy_ another team’s defenses. I don't wanna win unless I'm standin' next to him, y'know?"

"Yeah," Tendou answers, his eyes watering as he leads Shirabu out of the pool room. "I _know._ "

"Do you--," Shiraba hiccups, "Do you ever think about comin' out of retirement? We could use a strong middle blocker on our team."

A surprised grin lights Tendou's face just as the elevator's doors close behind them. "Is that your way of sayin' you missed me, too? Damn, Kenjirou, you've gone _soft_ on me."

" _As if_ ," Shirabu snaps, his face heating from more than just the alcohol. "M'just saying, y'r a good blocker, s'all."

Tendou's grin only broadens as he leans back against the elevator. He whistles under his breath the whole ride up - Shirabu mentally counts his blessings that at least this time, Tendou didn't click every single button.

When they reach their room, Shirabu steps between Tendou and the door. "M'gonna tell him. Maybe not tomorrow, but _soon._ I know you like him, but I like him too, and I'm damn tired of not doin' anything about it."

Tendou smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Okay."

"Okay?" Shirabu repeats incredulously.

" _Okay_ ," Tendou says again. "I'm happy for you, n' I'm not gonna do anythin' to stand in your way."

"Oh. Uh, Thanks." For reasons Shirabu can't begin to understand, he feels a pang of disappointment when Tendou ruffles his hair and brushes past without another word. Shirabu lets out a deep breath, then follows Tendou, water dripping from his hair as he stumbles blindly through the dark room. He shudders from the cold and tugs on a random shirt that’d been discarded somewhere near the bed he’s sharing with Ushijima.

Ushijima’s still exactly where they left him, snoring softly, a smile playing across his lips.

“Ey, Shirabu,” Tendou murmurs as Shirabu clambers back onto the bed. “What do ya think he’s dreaming about?”

“Volleyball,” Shirabu answers without hesitation. “Or _farming._ ”

The two share an amused, fond grin, and then Tendou’s flopping down onto his side and pulling the heavy blankets over himself. Shirabu looks back over at Ushijima and shivers again, his skin prickled with goosebumps when he crawls beneath the crook of Ushijima’s arm, where he’d been before. He falls asleep snuggled against Ushijima’s for warmth, his lips curving in a small smile when Ushijima groans softly and pulls Shirabu flush against him.

~*~

Shirabu wakes to the sound of Tendou singing. Then, the shower’s turned off and Tendou saunters back into the room dressed in only a towel that covers him from chest down, his pale legs just as glaring as the pale sunlight streaming in through the hotel’s tacky floral curtains.

“Mornin,’ sleepyhead,” Tendou croons as Shirabu slowly scans the room. “Lover boy’s already gone out for his morning walk, if that’s who you’re looking for.”

“Of course,” Shirabu says, groaning as his head pounds like it’s been hit with a sledgehammer. _I’m never drinking again,_ Shirabu vows. _I’m also never letting Tendou talk me into stupid shit like this again._ Even as he thinks it, he knows he can’t keep either promise. 

Shirabu lifts a hand to rub at his eyes and blinks down at himself, frowning in confusion when he realizes the shirt he’s wearing is baggy and unfamiliar. “Whose—”

“Wakatoshi’s,” Tendou answers, smirking around his toothbrush.

_Oh god._

Shirabu’s stomach flips. “Did he…?”

“Notice?” Tendou arches a brow at him. “Yep, definitely. He was even more monosyllabic than usual this morning before he left for his morning run.” He snorts and strolls back into their shared washroom. “Coulda sworn his ears looked a little red, too.”

Just barely resisting the temptation to bury his face in his pillow, Shirabu changes the topic to something safer, asking, “Have you heard anything about the car yet?”

“Eh? Oh yeah.” Tendou comes out of the washroom dressed in tight jeans, and a black hoodie that reads, WHAT THE FUCK’S A GENDER? in blue, pink, and white letters. “Mechanic says she can do it, but it’s short notice and the weather’s shit, so it’s going to take a few days.”

“A few days?” Shirabu demands. “We were supposed to be home by now!”

Tendou gives an exaggerated shrug, his shoulders lifting to his ears when he falls back against Shirabu’s bed. “Sorry, kiddo, nothin’ I can do about it.” He nudges his elbow against Shirabu’s knee. “ _But_ I think I know what might cheer you up.”

“Yeah? What’s that?”

Tendou grins and pulls the hotel menu out from behind his back. “Room service!”

 

Even though all they’ve done is watch movies together, Shirabu feels drained. He’s almost entirely forgotten about the drunken talk he’d had with Tendou the night before - that is, until the three of them are walking back to the hotel after dinner, and Tendou hangs back, letting Shirabu and Ushijima take the lead as they trek through the newly fallen snow. 

“Tendou?” Ushijima asks, looking over his shoulder. “Are you coming?”

Tendou hesitates. He glances between them, lips tugging in a rueful smile. “Nah, I don’t think so. I actually think I might head back to town—I’ve still got some late Christmas shopping to do.”

Ushijima’s frown deepens. “Are you sure?”

“Yep! You two go on without me,” he says, waving them off. His eyes glint and he continues, “I’ll catch up with you later! Much, much, _much_ later.” He waggles his brows suggestively at Shirabu, and Shirabu’s whole face burns with embarrassment. “Of course, don’t get up to _too_ much fun without me—I wouldn’t want to miss out anything.”

“You’ll be missing out on the end of the movie we were watching earlier,” Ushijima says, his voice still colored with concern.

Tendou hums. “Upsetting, but I think I can live with that. Have a good night, you two!” He winks pointedly and then turns on his heel.

Ushijima stares after him. “Shirabu? Did Tendou seem strange to you, just now?”

 _You mean besides the part where he just willingly sexiled himself for the night_ , Shirabu thinks. “When does Tendou not seem strange,” he says instead, his heart fluttering when that earns him a quiet laugh from Ushijima.

“I guess that’s true.”

They walk back to the hotel together, snow still drifting around them, matting in the hood of their jackets, and dusting their hair with small white flecks. There’s a snowflake clumped in Ushijima’s long lashes - and Shirabu knows he should just leave it alone but he _can’t._ “Ushijima, wait,” Shirabu breathes. “ _Hold still._ ”

Ushijima immediately obliges him.

“C-Close your eyes,” Shirabu adds. This, too, Ushijima does without question. With a quiet gulp, Shirabu reaches forward and gently drags his thumb along the splay of Ushijima’s lashes, his breath hitching when the snowflake melts against the rough pad of his finger. Ushijima doesn’t so much as twitch at the touch. 

“Kay, you’re good.” Mentally, Shirabu curses himself for the way his voice shakes, and the way his gaze flits down to Ushijima’s lips just as Ushijima’s eyes flutter open again.

“Thank you.”

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Shirabu says, ducking his head as he turns away and walks a little faster, as though if he stops moving, Ushijima might ask what the hell’s wrong with him. Every few minutes, his eyes flicker back to Ushijima’s face.

Tendou missed his shot—or at least thinks he did—because he chickened out. If the team had won nationals, if Tendou had had just a little more time and just the right opportunity, would he and Ushijima be together now?

Would Shirabu have lost his chance? Shit, did he even have a chance in hell now, even with Tendou’s help?

“Shirabu, you seem upset,” Ushijima observes. “Your car will be fixed soon, I’m sure.”

Shirabu shakes his head. The elevator chimes and the doors slide open. “It’s not that,” he says as Ushijima follows him out of the elevator. 

“Then what?”

“Nothing, I was just—” Shirabu sighs and unlocks their hotel room. “Thinking about nationals.”

“Nationals?” Ushijima repeats.

“And possibilities.”

Ushijima cocks his head to the side as the dodges to pile of clothes Tendou had tossed onto the floor earlier that morning. “I’m not sure I follow.” 

“Like—” Shirabu takes a deep breath and sits down on the edge of their bed. “—like what would’ve happened if we’d won; if Karasuno hadn’t…”

“You shouldn’t fixate over the past,” Ushijima warns.

“I know,” Shirabu says, huffing as he glares down at his fists. “It’s just…we were better than them, damn it! I’ve tried making sense of it but I just _can’t_. We _deserved_ to win. And I know, maybe that’s a petty thing to say, but screw it. It’s the truth.” Shirabu bites his lip, his teeth tearing at the skin. “So how did we lose, then? I just keep thinking…if I hadn’t let that four eyed brat rile me up…if I hadn’t let my ego get the best of me, then maybe—”

“Shirabu.” Ushijima’s voice is soft yet stern as his hand closes over Shirabu’s. “You did everything you could. We all did.”

“But I didn’t. I’m so much better than that, but I got _sloppy_!” There it is, the truth he’d been hanging onto ever since that day, the burden he’d been carrying like anvil on his shoulders.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ushijima replies, matter-of-fact.

Shirabu looks up at him in surprise.

“Shiratorizawa got to nationals the next year, and that’s in part because of your strong leadership. It was a lot of responsibility to carry, but you did well,” Ushijima says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Shirabu sits there, speechless, his heart leaping in his throat when Ushijima scooches closer on the bed so that their knees touch.

“I can see how you’ve changed, how you’ve become more confident in your skills, how you’ve kept your cool under pressure,” Ushijima continues as he laces his fingers with Shirabu’s, his other hand cupping Shirabu’s cheek. Shirabu shivers, a flood of warmth coursing through him when Ushijima’s thumb traces along curve of Shirabu’s jaw.

And it’s all too much, too overwhelming to have Ushijima this close, staring at Shirabu like he’s _special._ Shirabu’s heart feels like it’s going to burst out of his chest when Ushijima leans in like he’s going to kiss him, but instead Ushijima holds his gaze and says, “You’re strong, talented, _focused._ You’ve no reason not to trust in your abilities.”

“ _Don’t_ ,” Shirabu complains. He turns his face away, flush burning a path from the tips of his ears to his chest as he squeezes his eyes shut. Ushijima tenses and Shirabu rushes to explain, “I—Shit, if you keep saying stuff like that I’m going to want to _kiss_ you.”

“Oh.” Ushijima clears his throat. “I was only speaking the truth,” he says, his voice sincere. “But I wouldn’t be _opposed_ …to a kiss.”

“ _What?_ ” Shirabu blinks his eyes open, pulse skipping when he sees the anticipation written on Ushijima’s face. Ushijima looks like he’s only moments away from clarifying, for Shirabu’s benefit, when Shirabu decides - _fuck it._ “You’d want…?”

Ushijima nods, his gaze lowering to Shirabu’s lips. He looks up again, eyes sure. There’s no hesitance there, and Shirabu lets himself hope that maybe Ushijima’s wanted this at least half as bad as Shirabu has. 

He presses forward and Ushijima meets him halfway, Ushijima’s lips parting invitingly, his hands settling at Shirabu’s hips. Groaning, Shirabu crooks his fingers under Ushijima’s jaw and tilts his chin as he deepens the kiss into something slow and deliberate.

 _I’m kissing Ushijima Wakatoshi_ , Shirabu realizes, incredulously.

_Ushijima Wakatoshi is kissing me **back.**_

Shirabu splays his palms against Ushijima’s chest, then shifts his weight forward to push Ushijima down onto the bed and straddle him. A feverish heat burns through Shirabu, his breath already ragged as he admires how pliant Ushijima looks between his legs, a slight tinge of pink dusting Ushijima’s cheeks. There’s an undeniable thrill in knowing that Ushijima could flip their positions with ease, but doesn’t.

Instead, Ushijima lets Shirabu pin him to the bed, a gasp escaping his lips. His hands clench tight against Shirabu’s waist when Shirabu bends down to suck a bruise against Ushijima’s neck.

Shirabu pulls back to survey his work. His deft fingers make quick work of unbuttoning his shirt as Ushijima watches him with dark, lidded eyes. Smiling, Ushijima hooks his arms around Shirabu’s neck and drags him back down again to press lingering kisses to the shell of Shirabu’s ear, the nape of his neck, the dip of his collar. 

Shirabu wants so badly to draw things out, to commit each gasp and sigh to memory, but there’s a restless sort of energy thrumming through him and he can’t help that he’s starved for it after waiting for as long as he has.

“ _Hah_ , god, can I—” Shirabu shifts, impatient, and grinds his hips down against Ushijima’s. He pushes his hands beneath Ushijima’s pale blue sweater, tugging in the fabric as he nuzzles his nose against Ushijima’s jaw. 

Shirabu feels Ushijima nod and hurries to free him of his sweater. He snickers when Ushijima’s head gets caught in the sleeve. 

“Shit, sorry, here.” The two of them untangle Ushijima from the sweater - and then it’s tossed aside onto the floor, already forgotten as Shirabu cups Ushijima’s face in his hand and guides them into another searing kiss. He shivers and groans into the kiss when Ushijima’s nails dig crescents against his skin.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Shirabu hisses between clenched teeth. His hands brace against Ushijima’s chest as he rolls his hips down, languid and teasing, and he gasps when he feels Ushijima’s hardness pressing against his thigh. He’s rewarded with a full-bodied tremor when he wedges his hand between them and massages Ushijima through the damp fabric of his boxers. “ _Wakatoshi_ ,” Shirabu murmurs in between kisses.

Ushijima hums in answer and twines his fingers in the soft hair along Shirabu’s nape.

Shirabu bows their foreheads together. His breath catches in his throat as he searches Ushijima’s face. In his olive-colored eyes there’s only unwavering trust. “Can I fuck you?”

Ushijima’s eyes widen a fraction and then he’s sliding his hands between Shirabu’s thighs, his lips grazing the underside of Shirabu’s jaw. Voice rough, Ushijima asks, “How do you want me?”

Shirabu’s brain nearly implodes.

“I—” _really didn’t think I’d ever get this far, fuck_ —“On your stomach,” Shirabu chokes out as he moves back to give Ushijima space.

Ushijima does as he’s instructed, shucking off his jeans and boxers before turning onto his side expectantly.

 _Holy shit._ Shirabu kneels forward again and hesitantly reaches out to smooth his hand down the dip of Ushijima’s shoulders. He takes his time, his thumbs stroking along the hard lines of Ushijima’s shoulder blades before he dips his hands a little lower to dig his fingers against the small of the his ace’s back. It’s _ridiculous_ , really - Ushijima’s built like one of those Renaissance sculptures, and Shirabu’s tempted to spend the whole night exploring every inch of Ushijima’s skin, mapping out the ridges and grooves of firm muscle.

Finally, Shirabu’s gaze drifts lower to the slope of Ushijima’s ass. He stares, a little, okay a _lot_. What’d Tendou called it before? _Enjoying the simple things in life._

Breathless, Shirabu he splays his palms against Ushijima’s ass and squeezes, heat coiling through him when it coaxes a surprised groan from Ushijima. It’s only as he parts Ushijima’s cheeks with his thumbs that he realizes he’s distressingly unequipped for this.

“Hold on, don’t move,” Shirabu directs, his voice painfully hoarse.

It takes all of Shirabu’s restraint to tear his gaze away from the sight of Ushijima naked on the bed they’re sharing together. Cursing under his breath, Shirabu shuffles off the bed to dig through his suitcase, sending t-shirts, underwear and socks flying across the room until finally he finds his lube buried in one of the suitcase’s hidden compartments. He sighs in relief and clutches the bottle against his chest. But then, he realizes - _Shit, I still don’t have a_ —

“Shirabu?”

“One moment!” On a whim, Shirabu wrenches open Tendou’s nightstand. Sure enough, it only takes a few minutes of rummaging through the drawer, pushing asides volumes of manga, a hormone kit, and crumpled bubblegum wrappers until finally Shirabu finds what he’s looking for. The condom’s silver packaging glints in Shirabu’s hand as he rushes to rejoin Ushijima on the bed.

“Sorry,” Shirabu says and shifts forward on his knees, dropping a fluttery kiss to the knob of Ushijima’s spine. His nose nuzzling against Ushijima’s nape as Ushijima exhales and clenches his fingers in the sheets. “I wasn’t expecting this so didn’t, y’know, _prepare._ But I’m ready now.”

Ushijima twists around to look at Shirabu over his shoulder. “Is this too much for you?”

“ _No_ ,” Shirabu answers immediately. In a show of enthusiasm, he leans in and mouths along the bow of Ushijima’s shoulders, nipping and sucking at the skin as his mouth leaves behind a small constellation of hickies in its wake. He watches, eyes blown dark in arousal at the broken noises spilling from Ushijima’s lips as Ushijima ruts his hips against the bed.

“Too much for _you?_ ” Shirabu teases. He coats his fingers in lube, then reaches down again to tease at Ushijima’s entrance.

“ _No._ ” But there’s an uncharacteristic edge of impatience to Ushijima’s tone that has Shirabu’s lips crooking into a grin. 

“Good,” Shirabu says. For a moment, he hesitates. “And you’d tell me…if this wasn’t what you wanted?”

“It’s what I want,” Ushijima answers. He splays his legs in demonstration. “Shirabu. We’ve always been honest with one another, haven’t we?”

A fond smile pulls at the corners of Shirabu’s lips. “We have,” he admits. He kneels down and sucks a kiss against the inside of Ushijima’s thigh - just as he pushes his finger past Ushijima’s entrance.

He’s imagined this before—dreamt of what it might feel like to have Ushijima writhing and moaning, stretching out on his fingers or his tongue or _both_ \- but Shirabu couldn’t have guessed the choked off noises Ushijima would make or just how good he’d look, Ushijima’s back arching off the bed as Shirabu slides a second finger alongside the first.

Shirabu works him open with purpose, his ministrations as calculated and deliberate as he is on court until he hears Ushijima gasp out, “ _Kenjirou._ ”

Shirabu’s pulse stutters. His hands tremble - he withdraws his fingers and wipes them on the mattress. “I changed my mind,” Shirabu decides, his voice rough as sandpaper. He drags his boxers and jeans down past his knees. “Could we—Wakatoshi, could you turn around? I want to see your face.”

And Ushijima turns to face him. This time when their lips meet, it’s a gentle, tender sort of kiss, the two of them panting into each other’s mouths as their fingers intertwine. Their gazes lock as Shirabu leans forward and strokes himself first before sinking in, slowly enough for Ushijima to adjust to the stretch. _Oh god, fuck_ , Shirabu thinks - his eyes squeeze shut and his nails bite into Ushijima’s palms as wet heat envelops him.

Voice strained, Shirabu rasps out, “You okay?”

In answer, Ushijima thrusts his hips and pulls Shirabu down so that their bodies are pressed flush together. Shirabu’s mouth falls open on a groan when Ushijima rocks into him, fucking him from below.

“Kenjirou.” Ushijima winds his legs around Shirabu’s waist, his breath warm against Shirabu’s neck when he pants out, “You don’t have to hold back with me.” 

There’s a hint of a challenge in Ushijima’s eyes - and Shirabu grins and answers Ushijima’s taunt with a rough thrust of his own, his fingers tugging free so that he can tangle his fingers in Ushijima’s short hair.

Their bodies melt together, both of them in sync as they fall into steady rhythm. _It’s better like this, with both of us facing each other_ , Shirabu decides, his breath coming out uneven as Ushijima mouths along his neck. _More intimate_. Like this, he can meet Ushijima’s eyes and draw him into another biting kiss, both of them laughing at the mattress’s obnoxious squeak as they grind together.

Even off the court, Shirabu’s attuned to his ace’s needs—Shirabu works his hips harder, faster, rougher, until Ushijima’s face twists in pleasure, until his thighs are quivering and his nails leave clear indents in the bed frame above them. Shirabu drives forward, the mattress surging beneath them as with every shove of Shirabu’s hips as he swears and muffles his punched-out grunts against the crook of Ushijima’s shoulder. They both cry out when Shirabu’s cock brushes against a sensitive bundle of nerves. Shirabu clings onto Ushijima even tighter, their pace turning frenzied as Shirabu rakes his nails down Ushijima’s back - and fuck, it’s _perfect_.

Shirabu tenses on a ragged breath, his head tipping forward when Ushijima sucks Shirabu’s bottom lip between his teeth and gasps out, “Come for me.”

And Shirabu _does_ —His eyes shoot open, his mouth parted in a strangled groan as Ushijima clenches down around him. His breath comes out in ragged pants and he chants Ushijima’s name over and over and then he’s coming. It takes a moment for Shirabu to adjust, his head still hazy from his orgasm as Ushijima traces soothing patterns along the curve of his hip. Shirabu’s eyes flutter open again as he plants an open mouthed kiss to the corner of Ushijima’s lips and redirects the last of his energy to bringing Ushijima to off.

Shirabu rocks his hips forward, slow and experimental, earning another grunt from Ushijima. Grinning, Shirabu reaches a hand between them, his fingers curling around Ushijima’s cock as he teases his thumb over the slit. Ushijima bucks his hips into Shirabu’s grasp, his chest heaving.

He feels it as Ushijima approaches his own orgasm—he tightens around Shirabu, pulling him in closer, the heels of Ushijima’s feet burrowing against the small of Shirabu’s back as he urges Shirabu forward. Dazed, Shirabu drags his thumb along the flushed arch of Ushijima’s throat and feels Ushijima’s pulse jump. _Interesting_. He presses down, not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough that Ushijima’s eyes darken. 

Shirabu strokes him faster, working his fist and hips in tandem with rough, clumsy thrusts - and then finally Ushijima’s coming between them with a breathless, “ _K—Kenjirou._ ”

They stay like that for a long moment, their chests heaving. Ushijima’s knuckles brush along Shirabu’s jaw, his lips, and his collar. Shirabu sighs and bends down to press a soft kiss to Ushijima’s lashes. 

Then, with a heavy groan, Shirabu pulls out. “We should get up,” he suggests, even while he curls his head against Ushijima’s chest.

“I’ll go.” Ushijima nuzzles his nose against Shirabu’s before climbing out of bed. When he returns, he’s holding a towel and a fresh pair of boxers for each of them.

As Ushijima dabs the towel between them, Shirabu closes his eyes and yawns. “M’tired. I think m’gonna sleep.” He pats the empty space next to him.

Ushijima sets the towel aside and then crawls into bed next to Shirabu, then casts a weary look at the door. He flicks off the light and asks, “Do you think Tendou will be out long? I didn’t realize he was so far behind on his Christmas shopping.”

 _Tendou._ Fuck, it’s like a bucket of cold water is dumped over Shirabu’s head. 

“Wakatoshi.” Frowning, Shirabu wraps his arms around Ushijima’s waist and buries his face between Ushijima’s shoulder blades. He spreads his fingers against the span of Ushijima’s ribs. “What is Tendou to you?”

“Tendou’s…a close friend.”

Shirabu makes a noise of frustration. “But what do you want him to be? Do you want this—“ he presses his lips to Ushijima’s shoulder— “With him?” 

When Ushijima doesn’t answer right away, he continues, “Tendou told me about graduation.”

“Oh.”

“If that’s what you want—” Shirabu’s heart thunders against his chest.

“Kenjirou.”

“Tendou still has feelings,” Shirabu insists. He bites his lip. “Am I—am I being selfish in getting in the way of that? For keeping you two apart?”

“ _Kenjirou._ ” Ushijima twists around to face him, his brows pulling together in a line of concern as he cradles Shirabu’s face in his hands. “And you’re not getting in the way,” he says, threading his fingers through Shirabu’s hair. “I want this.”

“And Tendou?”

Ushijima meets Shirabu’s gaze. “Is it wrong to have feelings for _both_ of you?”

 _Both._ God, it’s almost a relief to have it confirmed at this point. Shirabu pulls away, his head reeling. He scowls.

“You’re upset,” Ushijima observes.

Shirabu shakes his head, his stomach clenching. He answers, “No, I get it. You guys...you make sense. You two _should_ be together.”

“I don’t want that,” Ushijima replies, frowning as he grazes his fingers along the inner side of Shirabu’s thigh. “Not without you.”

“Not without—” Shirabu blinks. “You mean the three of us…like, _together._ ”

Ushijima nods.

For a moment, Shirabu lets himself consider what that’d be like. Even on his best days, Tendou’s _insufferable_ , his lips always crooked in a devious grin. And it’s not that Shirabu hasn’t thought about it before, that he hasn’t considered dragging Tendou down by the collar and pushing their lips together or that he hasn’t ever wanted to twist his fingers in Tendou’s bright red hair and _pull_ , it’s just this is Tendou Satori they’re talking about and there’s no way in hell Shirabu would ever consider—

“Uh,” Shirabu clears his throat. “Can I think about it first?”

Ushijima kisses the crown of Shirabu’s head. “Of course.”

Shirabu’s lips twitch in a smile as he curls their fingers together. “Tomorrow, we’ll talk,” he mumbles. He shuffles in closer and shifts his leg over Ushijima’s thigh, inhaling sharply when Ushijima’s callused fingers dip beneath the waistband of his boxers. “For now, we _sleep._ ”

Humming, Ushijima draws his arms around Shirabu’s waist and tucks Shirabu’s head beneath his chin. “Good night,” he says softly.

“G’night,” Shirabu mumbles back as sleep tugs at his consciousness. That night, he dreams of olive eyes, tender smiles, flashy red hair and Cheshire smirks.

~*~

Shirabu’s eyes flutter open. He hugs the sheets against his chest, then frowns when he realizes that Ushijima’s side of the bed is empty.

“Morning run,” Tendou explains.

Shirabu tosses a pillow at him. “Stop doing that, it’s creepy.”

“Jeez Shirabu, you’re always so spirited in the mornings,” Tendou says, laughing. He leans against the bathroom door. “Maybe next time the two of us should join Wakatoshi on one of his runs, since you have so much energy—”

Shirabu growls and reaches for the other pillow.

Tendou snickers, ducking into the washroom just in time for the white pillow to bounce off the door. As Shirabu buries his face against the mattress, he hears a loud squawk, followed by a thump.

“Ah, _fuck_ —uh, Shirabu?”

“What?”

“Look, don’t laugh, but I need your help,” Tendou mutters from inside the bathroom.

Shirabu sighs and gets out of bed. “What’d you do now?”

The door creaks open to reveal Tendou hunched over, head peeking out through the sleeve of his black binder, his body contorted in the kind of pose Shirabu would expect from a monster in a horror manga.

“God, you’re a mess,” Shirabu mocks. His lips tilt into a smirk.

Tendou bumps against the wall and retorts, “I’m painfully aware, just help me outta this thing before I suffocate.” After a moment of silence, he adds, “ _Please._ ”

“Yeah, yeah, just hold still,” Shirabu instructs. He reaches a hand out to steady Tendou, before he can knock any more travel size shampoos off the shelf. Sighing, he tugs at the tight fabric and directs Tendou to lift his arms. Tendou grunts but does as he’s told, the two of them wincing as Shirabu grips the binder hard enough to yank the fabric up past Tendou’s shoulders until finally he wriggles free.

“There, you’re free,” Shirabu says, handing back Tendou’s binder. “Think you’ll be okay, or should I stay in another altercation with your wardrobe?”

“See, I _knew_ you cared,” Tendou laughs and boops Shirabu on the nose. It’s a testament to how deeply fucked Shirabu is that he flushes, and only swats Tendou’s hand away out of habit. In his head, Shirabu hears Ushijima say, _It’s not wrong to have feelings for **both** of you, is it?_ And oh. Oh god. 

Shirabu slams the door shut in Tendou’s face. Heart racing, he slides down against the door and mutters, “You’re on your own next time!”

_I’m seriously considering this, aren’t I? Well, fuck._

A few minutes later, as Shirabu’s buttoning his beige cardigan, Tendou emerges from the washroom wearing a purple Osomatsu hoodie, dark grey skinny jeans and a black, studded belt. How Tendou finds it himself to mock Semi’s fashion sense is beyond comprehensible. What’s worse is that Tendou manages to pull it off anyway. 

“So, it’s just the two of us again, huh?” Tendou asks, flopping down on Shirabu’s bed. “Whaddaya say we go out for a bit, just the two of us? Last night I found this really cool store that sells all kind of weird knick-knacks, in case you haven’t bought me the perfect gift yet~”

“Thank god, I was really stumped.” Shirabu rolls his eyes and muses, “What do you get for the cryptid that already has everything it needs?”

“But you’ll come?” Tendou presses, his lips twitching at the insult. “It’ll only be for an hour or so, until Ushijima gets back from his run.”

With a sigh, Shirabu wraps his scarf around his neck. “Fine, but you’re paying for our lunch. And I’m _not_ going into the Doujinshi store with you.”

Tendou grins in response. “Good enough for me.”

 

At lunch, Tendou doesn’t mention the night before, even though Shirabu keeps expecting the older boy to tease Shirabu about owing him a condom. When they rejoin Ushijima later at the hotel, it’s as though nothing’s changed between the three of them. Tendou nestles between Shirabu and Ushijima on their bed as they turn on the television and find that nothing’s on besides crime shows.

“How about the one where the guy reanimates the dead to solve crimes?” Shirabu suggests.

Tendou makes a disapproving noise, folding his arms and kicking his legs behind him. “Nah. Oh, let’s watch the one about the zombie who solves mysteries by feeding on the victims’ brains.”

Ushijima shakes his head at both of them and instead selects the one about the gifted dog detective who uses his heightened senses to help investigators solve crimes. “A good choice,” Tendou hums. They pass their store-bought popcorn between them as Tendou pops rainbow skittles into his mouth. As the night goes on, Ushijima reaches a hand out to link his fingers with Shirabu’s, and absently presses kisses between the grooves of Shirabu’s knuckles. Shirabu’s face heats when he feels Tendou’s gaze on them.

“ _Well_ ,” Tendou yawns and stretches, his shoulder brushing against Shirabu’s, “it’s gettin’ late. I should probably get back to my own bed, huh?”

Ushijima and Shirabu exchange a long look. 

They still haven’t talked about it yet, what it might mean for the three of them if they were dating.  
Ushijima cocks his head, the gesture barely perceptible but Shirabu knows exactly what he’s inquiring. _Do you want this?_ He seems to be silently asks. 

Face warm, Shirabu catches his lower lip between his teeth and nods. 

“Tendou,” Ushijima starts, but Tendou waves him off.

Lips curving in a self-deprecating smile, Tendou says, “S’cool, I can tell when I’m bein’ a third wheel!”

There’s confusion written across Ushijima’s face and Shirabu decides he’s done waiting for the two of them to get their shit together. “Jesus, Tendou,” Shirabu hisses. He lets go of Ushijima’s hand and fists his fingers in Tendou’s ridiculous hoodie, yanking Tendou down on top of him as their mouths crash together. “ _Shut up_ ,” he grunts against Tendou’s lips and kisses him, hard.

Tendou gasps in surprise, the noise muffled by Shriabu’s lips as Tendou drags his fingers through Shirabu’s uneven bangs. Tendou clenches his hands against the small of Shirabu’s back, grins bewildered, and asks, “M’not complaining, but uh, what…?” He glances over at Ushijima.

“ _Stay_ ,” Ushijima says simply, then draws Tendou into a firm kiss. He holds Tendou’s wrist in a loose grip, his lip trailing open mouthed kisses down along the span of Tendou’s neck as Tendou shivers and writhes between them.

Swallowing his own pride, Shirabu braces a hand against Tendou’s thigh and explains, “We want to date you, you idiot.”

“ _Hah_ , okay, I just— _is this real?_ ” Tendou’s breath hitches when Shirabu’s fingers slide beneath his hoodie.

Shirabu snorts and pinches Tendou’s hip.

“Oi! What was that for?”

“You’re not dreaming,” Shirabu assures Tendou, his lips flitting in a smirk. He tugs Tendou back down so that Tendou’s sandwiched between them on the bed.

Tendou laughs against the crook of Shirabu’s neck. His other hand finds Ushijima’s. “Kinda snug, don’tcha think?”

Shirabu arches a brow at him. “Do you really mind?”

“We can move the beds together,” Ushijima says, but the suggestion goes ignored as Tendou yawns and nuzzles his nose against their Ushijima’s nape, drawing a quiet noise from their ace.

Shirabu frowns at them. After the past two nights, he’s grown _used_ to sleeping with another body pressed flush against his. Deciding it’s worth the teasing that’ll inevitably follow, Shirabu scoots closer and curls himself against Tendou’s, his arms wrapping around the other man’s lean waist. He’s close enough that he can feel the warmth radiating off Tendou’s skin as Tendou comments a beat later, “Didn’t take you for a cuddler, Kenij _rou._ ”

Shirabu buries his face in Tendou’s red hair and warns, “Call me a cuddler again n’I’ll smother you in your sleep.”

“See, now there’s the pillar of salt I know and love,” Tendou teases, prompting a laugh from Ushijima.

They fall asleep like that; a mess of long limbs, Tendou’s elbow wedged against Ushijima’s side, Shirabu’s leg hitched over Tendou’s thigh. It’s maybe not the most practical position but it’s worth it, Shirabu decides, as he’s within reach to press kisses to their both their shoulders, his chest warm with affection as the three of them murmur goodnight to each other.

 

They’re up early the next morning when Shirabu gets a call that his car’s been fixed.

“Am I the only one who’s gonna miss this place?” Tendou asks, rolling his suitcase down the carpeted hallway.

“ _Yes_ ,” Shirabu answers. “Tendou, we’ve been practically living off the snack bar for the past three days. I can’t survive like this anymore.”

The elevator chimes and the three of them get in. “It would be nice to have a home cooked meal again,” Ushijima agrees on their way down. “And it’s going to be nice to be with family.”

Tendou winces.

Shirabu nudges his shoulder against Tendou’s and asks, “What is it?”

“Nothing, I just—” Tendou bites his lip, his cheeks flushing as he tugs at the collar of his sweater. “You guys… _the team_ …you’re sorta my family, y’know?”

Shirabu’s stomach clenches.

“You’re welcome as a guest in my home any time you’d like,” offers Ushijima.

“Mine too.”

Tendou’s jaw falls open. He stares at the two of them. “You’re…you _mean_ it?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Shirabu says, as the three of them step out of the elevator. “Besides, we’ll still see you over the break. We can make time to hang out, just the three of us.”

The grin that slowly stretches across Tendou’s lips makes Shirabu’s heart leap in his chest. “ _Like a date_ , then?”

“I—yeah.” Shirabu swallows. “ _Like a date_.”

 

They get to Ushijima’s house two hours later, the morning sun still soft and golden across the horizon as they pull up on his street. “So much for a white Christmas,” Tendou complains when he sees the green lawns and bare branches.

Ushijima leans forward, his hands bracketing Tendou’s seat. “It must have rained while we were gone.”

“ _Lame._ ”

Shirabu shakes his head at Tendou and parks the car. He can already see Ushijima’s little cousins playing by the window. “Alright, come on, everyone out.”

Ushijima unloads the trunk, and Tendou sighs happily and drapes himself over Shirabu’s back. He laughs when Shirabu sags beneath him.

“Ugh, get off me, you gremlin,” Shirabu grumbles. Flush colors his cheeks as Tendou leans down and peppers Shirabu’s face with kisses. “Save the PDA for _Wakatoshi._ ”

Tendou laughs. “Aw, don’t be like that. There’s _plenty_ of Tendou Satori to go around!” His breath’s warm against Shirabu’s neck as he stuffs his hands in the pocket of Shirabu’s hoodie. “Nice sweater, by the way~”

Shirabu coughs. Half way through the trip he’d gotten chilly and Tendou’s hoodie had been there, tucked between the seats. He hadn’t thought much of it then. 

“It’s _warm_ ,” Shirabu huffs, leaning back against Tendou.

Tendou’s eyes flicker down to Shirabu. “So the three of us, we’re dating, huh?”

“Mmm.”

“S’that mean you’re gonna call me by my first name, then?” He hugs tightly Shirabu against his chest.

Shirabu tilts his head up, his eyes lidded as he meets Tendou’s gaze. “ _Satori._ ”

He snickers when color blooms across Tendou’s face. “Too powerful,” he hears Tendou whisper under his breath.

“Is everybody ready to go in?” Ushijima asks as he closes the trunk.

Shirabu bites his lip. His chest swells with warmth when Ushijima ducks down and presses his lips to Shirabu’s forehead.

“Yeah, just give me a second.”

“You’re _smiling_ ,” Tendou observes, a hint of suspicion in his voice. His eyes narrow to slits. “Why are you smiling like that?”

“No reason.” Shirabu squeezes Tendou’s hands as he glances between his boyfriends and grins. “Just…feels good to be home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MERRY CHRISTMAS/HAPPY BIRTHDAY/HAPPY NEW YEAR NAT i Finally finished this aaaAAAA
> 
> thank you so much betsy for betaing this and encouraging me to try my best, thank you becky, mits and amanda who your enthusiasm and thank you Nat, of course, as every word of this was written with the intention of making you grin and reminding you how much joy you bring to my life and wow i'm getting sappy again but ily <33

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr](http://tobioslilgiant.tumblr.com/) l [Twitter](https://twitter.com/ambyguity_)
> 
> thank you so much betsy for editing this!! you are my hero! I'm sorry and i'm lazy and non-descriptive ;v;
> 
> [now there's art!!!](http://leeva-art.tumblr.com/post/155433667957/tendou-holds-out-the-bottle-his-bony-shoulders)
> 
> [and more art here!](http://tobioslilgiant.tumblr.com/post/156631200882/tenshira-art-i-commissioned-from-the)


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